Some People Move On, But Not Us
by ThereWasAnIdea
Summary: We're in the endgame now. Follow Circe, a young UN staffer with a knack for interplanetary relations, as she joins forces with the Avengers in the aftermath of Thanos's snap. "I'm asking you to trust me, Captain Rogers. Whatever it takes." Retelling of "Avengers: Endgame" with the addition of new characters/original storylines. The beginning of a multi-part series!
1. Chapter 1: The Snap

**Chapter 1: The Snap**

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original character R'dawē. Thank you for your attention and enjoy!

**Author's Note:** The main character's name is spelled Circe, but pronounced like Saoirse ("sir-sha"). She is based on Jack Kirby's original character, but I have created an original backstory and characterization for her. This is NOT the MCU Circe.

* * *

Suddenly, the meeting hall broke into chaos.

Bewildered screams, the metal screeches of chairs being pushed back, rapid footsteps on the tile floor…and yet an eerily cold silence layered over it. It took a moment for her to register what was going on at first. Consumed in her notes and preparing for the speech she was about to give, Circe had not been paying much attention to the speaker. But when the screaming started, she couldn't help but lift her gaze, where she saw the Assistant Director of Peacekeeping turn to dust.

The pen she was holding fell from her grasp.

Was this real? Were her eyes betraying her? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone from the British delegation begin to dissolve into what appeared to be ash. Was this a biological weapon? Before she could really process what was happening, amidst the noise and rapid disintegration of the people in the room, Circe felt a hand on her arm. Turning, in what seemed like slow motion, she met the eyes of a young Chinese woman who frequently sat near her at meetings, was friendly enough, and probably worked in one of the development offices.

Not a second had passed before the horrified eyes of the other woman began to fade into the grey dust that seemed to proliferate throughout the room on a high-pitched whispering breeze. Only a hand remained grasping Circe's arm and within the blink of an eye, that too had disappeared. Circe sprung up out of her chair, not thinking, merely reacting physically to the shock that her brain could not simply process in real time. What was happening? She backed up, tripping over something, before racing towards the outer doors. The meeting chamber was filled with dust and a grim, menacing silence that echoed with the scream so the survivors who fled down the hallways.

Circe felt sick. Nauseous. She grasped the balcony railing tightly, hoping that it would steel herself against whatever just happened in the meeting chamber. Her breaths came anxiously and a creeping sense of dread settled under her skin. For a few heartbeats, it seemed as if she had imagined it and that nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

Then she saw the plane go down.

Outside of the window, somewhere across the harbor, a jet abruptly turned earthward, plummeting rapidly. A large-scale terrorist attack? Chemical weapons causing hallucinations? Something even more unprecedented? Hardly two minutes had passed since the screams had begun and yet the possibilities were flying through her head, soaring unabatedly with no real consideration. Things had been tense at the United Nations headquarters since the alien spaceship – the rolling donut, wheel of destruction, whatever it was – had descended just blocks away on Bleecker Street. Mass paranoia was certainly an option, especially given the lack of data that could explain the spaceship's appearance. But it had happened. Circe was certain of that; she and her team had spent weeks analyzing the craft, videos of it, its trajectory out of the atmosphere. The lack of proper answers was equal parts frustrating and terrifying. What did it mean?

The place where the Chinese staffer's hand had remained, disembodied but fading, seemed to burn. Was it a contagion? Was she next?

She couldn't focus. She couldn't breathe. What was happening? Turning around and sliding down the glass pane that cordoned off the balcony, Circe squatted on the floor. Her left hand remained on the railing, as if grasping for some kind of normal, tangible answer, while her other arm wrapped around her midsection, endeavoring to hold herself together against what could be inevitable. What she had witnessed was beyond comprehension. One second, the meeting was progressing as normal and the next, human beings were dissipating into what seemed like particles of ash.

Trying to collect her thoughts, Circe stayed where she was, hearing only her heartbeat, her ragged breath, and the high-pitched silence that remained after her colleagues disappeared. She had to stay calm, figure out whatever this was. All signs pointed towards something extraterrestrial, making it her responsibility. Outside the massive edifice of the building, car horns blared, sirens began to roar, and people screamed. From her perspective, behind the glass and the concrete walls, it all sounded strangely muted. She was afraid to turn around and look. This was a catastrophe, but at what level, she did not yet know. To her, without any context, it appeared as an inexplicable occurrence.

Several minutes passed, though it felt like hours. Circe, feeling like a ghost of herself, managed to find strength to pull herself to her feet. She was shaky. But she was still here. That fact alone gave her the motivation to take one step, another, and another until she was running in the direction of her department's offices.

Inside, it seemed silent. A bad sign. "HELLO?" she yelled, hoping for a response, any response. A sign of life from her coworkers that would indicate that the traumatizing events in the meeting room were isolated. But she was met with silence. "HELLO? ANYONE?" she screamed again, panic edging into her voice. The receptionist's desk was empty, a cup of coffee still steaming on the corner by the telephone. Was everyone...gone?

"Circe? Hey...I was looking for..."

"Oh thank God!" Circe threw herself at R'dawē.

If he was here, then it wasn't everyone. It couldn't be _everyone_. There was hope.

"I got a signal fro– Seer, what's wrong? Where is everyone?" he asked, seeming to notice for the first time that they were alone in the office and that Circe's arms were locked tightly around him, her head laying against his shoulder.

"I...I don't...R'dawē something's happened," her voice wavered as she tried to give form to her racing thoughts. "I…I can't explain it, but they're gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"In the meeting chamber..." she started, before her voice cracked, "in the middle of a speech, something happened and the speaker, he turned to...to dust...and then other people started...disintegrating...right before my eyes...I don't understand..."

R'dawē's eyes clouded. It sounded insane, but from the shaken, wide-eyed look on his normally placid best friend, the gravity of her words began to settle in.

"Everyone?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer. After reading the unusual seismic data coming from his home country of Wakanda, his suspicions had already begun to stir, but now they began to turn into a disquieting foreboding.

"Not everyone, I don't think," she replied. "I don't know. After the first few, everyone started running and..."

Simultaneously, their eyes had wandered to behind the receptionist's desk, near where they stood. A tiny pile of dust sat on the floor, being gently blown about by the space heater located under the desk. Both took a step backwards, the horror of the situation enveloping them. R'dawē put a hand to his head, trying to process the inconceivable. His back hit the wall by the director's door and he slowly slid down to the floor. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in.

"They've...vanished?" R'dawē whispered slowly, not wanting to admit it to himself.

Circe paused before nodding, feeling dread pool in her stomach as the reality set in. Hearing it out loud sounded so final. So definite.

What she had seen couldn't be believed. And yet... Her eyes widened without really seeing anything in front of her, as her mind started processing the next steps.

There was an idea...


	2. Chapter 2: Outside Looking In

**Chapter 2: Outside Looking In**

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original characters R'dawē and Thandiwe. The main character's name is spelled Circe, but pronounced like Saoirse ("sir-sha"). She is based on Jack Kirby's original character, but I have created an original backstory and characterization for her. This is NOT the MCU Circe. **Thank you for your attention and enjoy!**

A/N: For anyone wondering, the Avengers make an appearance in this chapter and will be MUCH more prominent from here on out!

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" R'dawē glanced over at Circe as she drove, speeding down the vacant streets.

Circe nodded, pressing her lips together firmly without taking her eyes from the road. Twenty-three days had passed since the incident. The initial shock had worn off somewhat, but the chaos had not abated. The pair had taken to staying in Circe's office, working round the clock to monitor atmospheric data, designing a plan to move forward, and fielding calls from frantic officials demanding answers. Day in, day out. And still no real solution emerged.

For hours that fateful day, Circe and R'dawē had waited with bated breath to see if they would be next to dissipate. The waiting was tedious and nerve-wracking (after all, what could really be said to lighten the mood or make sense of things?), and so the pair decided to do what they did best: work through the trauma and try to assess the damage. Neither spoke much, but they took comfort in each other's presence. They were a team, and through all of the inexplicable and fantastic things that they had encountered over the past three years, they knew that together they were capable of just about anything.

For a while, they were thoroughly perplexed as to what had happened. Just after Circe had left the office to attend the meeting on the most recent alien attack in New York City, R'dawē had received an alert from one of the departmental researchers that extremely unusual seismic activity was taking place in Wakanda. It intrigued and worried him. He had sent a message to his sister, Thandiwe, the youngest of the Dora Milaje, to see if she knew anything about the cause of the bizarre data. Time passed and no response came. As it became clear that something unnatural was occurring, he pulled up a range of live trackers, looking at atmospheric readings and seismic waves, thinking perhaps that something had happened with the vibranium mines. Suddenly, for the briefest of moments, the graphs went off the charts, lines spiking in all sectors. He had waited to see if it would happen again, or if his eyes had been betraying him, and meanwhile sought to locate the source of the anomaly. Then he had heard Circe's panicked shouts in the vestibule.

As it turned out, neither could have predicted what the real reason for the irregular readings had been. Thandiwe eventually put a message through to R'dawē's cloaked kimoyo-bead communicator and had tearfully explained what had happened. Hordes of violent aliens had descended upon the country and a bloody battle ensued. It had taken every effort, and no small number of lives, to hold off the extraterrestrial invaders.

What struck Circe the most was that Thandiwe had mentioned how the Avengers had been very involved in the battle, taking the front lines alongside King T'Challa and Wakanda's forces. The Avengers had been persistently on Circe's mind since Tony Stark had disappeared, along with Spider-Man and the magically gifted individual she had seen being beamed up by the aliens. There was something large and unsettling at play here. And that something was apparently called Thanos.

Thandiwe hadn't known many details and was frantic even when explaining the battle. But she knew that the reason so many people had disappeared was because of this Thanos. During the invasion, Thandiwe had been guarding Princess Shuri while the young royal attempted to extract a gemstone from the forehead of Vision. Circe had met the synthetic being before, given that he posed so many complications to international law, and had felt a strange, uncanny pull towards him. She never quite knew how to explain it, but she was sure that the gemstone he possessed was immensely powerful, beyond even what the Avengers realized. Apparently, she was not the only one to have drawn that conclusion.

Days later, when some sense of order had been restored, and surviving departmental heads or those acting in their stead, convened for an emergency meeting, attention and accusations quickly had shifted towards Circe. After all, it was the Department of Interplanetary Relations that was responsible for the unfathomable, for things like this. Which meant that it would inevitably fall to her, as the Assistant Director of IPR, to step up and, somehow, set things , there were riots, prayer vigils, mass lootings, and grassroots efforts at humanitarian relief. Chaos and unity in the face of otherworldly catastrophe. Governments were barely holding together, and societies were decimated. Although reluctant to give legitimacy to what sounded like an outrageous fabrication of an explanation, the Secretary General became insistent that a solution to reverse this tragedy be implemented as soon as possible. Circe had done everything in her power not to roll her eyes at that request. She had studied the application of international relations to outer space and the unknown, not miracles.

Then, another spaceship entered Earth's atmosphere. Not quite a miracle, but certainly promising.

It landed in upstate New York, in a no-fly zone that was heavily monitored by the IPR department. Circe had even been on the grounds there before, on a tour of the newly opened compound. _Why would it land there?_ Unless… could it be that Iron Man had returned? Or Thanos? Either way, Circe realized that now was as good a time as any to pay a visit to the remaining Avengers. It had been her idea all along to get in contact with them, but officials in the UN Secretariat had deterred the thought, noting that the Avengers had brought enough trouble to Earth already. But something as small as a warning from her superiors wasn't enough to stop Circe from grabbing the keys and announcing to R'dawē that they were going to take a little mid-day road trip.

* * *

She took a deep breath. Despite the extraordinary experiences she had had in life, knocking on the Avengers' door was not exactly mundane. These were the heroes of New York. They were gods among men, some quite literally. Her heart thundered in her chest as she raised a hand to press the intercom buzzer. _Please don't let them turn us away, please…_

A video screen to the side of the door flashed to life. Half of the screen was taken up by her and R'dawē's expectant faces. The other half was occupied by a very tense looking Captain America.

"You've got to be kidding me."

R'dawē nudged her with his elbow. "What did I tell you?" he remarked under his breath.

She put on her best professional smile, "Captain Rogers, I'm Circe Mismyre from the UN Inter…"

"I know who you are. Are you here to arrest me?" Captain Rogers asked, his tone disdainful.

Circe was taken aback by the brusque greeting, "What? No! We're here because…"

Again, Captain Rogers interrupted, "You're the one who wrote the Sokovia Accords." It was a statement rather than a question. He knew as well as anyone that she had chaired the committee that drafted the controversial Accords. It was... _complicated, _to say the least, and certainly not something she wanted to get into right now.

"I am," she replied, sounding defensive. "And I did everything I could to keep it fair, but…"

"So why are you here?"

"Steve, you know why they're here." Agent Romanoff appeared on the screen behind Captain Rogers's shoulder. She paused, looking into the camera, carefully assessing Circe and R'dawē, before making a silent determination. "Tony's back, he's in rough shape," she said to the pair. "And we…have some new friends."

"We might be able to help," R'dawē insisted.

The door buzzed and then opened with a click. As they crossed the threshold of the Avengers main building, Circe overheard Captain Rogers whisper, "Nat, you better be right about them."

Agent Romanoff inspected them with a weak smile once the pair was inside. Circe had met the Black Widow before, several times actually since Loki's attack on New York City, but so much had happened since then. Her hair was no longer a fiery red, but a softer blonde, and a she looked immensely tired.

"Good to see you again Circe. And you… R'dawē, right?" she asked.

R'dawē nodded, "Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers, we want to help. Things are…going poorly at the UN. Our department is just the two of us now. We thought that if we could combine our findings with yours, maybe we could discover how to reverse Thanos's…"

"You know about Thanos?" Captain Rogers questioned, sounding rather surprised.

"We know he's the one responsible for this," Circe replied resolutely. "That he's the most powerful threat our world has ever faced. And that he's probably still out there."

Captain Rogers folded his arms across his chest. The two Avengers exchanged a quick glance. "We were about to have a debrief in the conference room," Agent Romanoff noted. "You two should probably be in there. Follow me."

Once inside, Circe quickly took note of who was present. And who was not.

Along the back wall, almost unnoticeable, sat Thor, looking uncharacteristically sullen. Circe almost hadn't recognized him without his long hair and extravagant cape, but it was the dejected expression he wore that was most foreign. Her heart went out to him. Thor was the first extraterrestrial being she had ever met, and he had been patient, kind even, in answering her many questions about the wider universe. To see him brought so low was painful to observe.

There was, however, a new face among those gathered. A tall, powerful-looking blonde woman in a black tank top. She had a presence about her that Circe was instantly intrigued by. Was she one of the "new friends" that Agent Romanoff had been referring to? The woman eyed Circe and R'dawē curiously, though without the hesitancy or enmity that had filled Captain Rogers's eyes.

Near her was Colonel Rhodes, who nodded solemnly in acknowledgement when he saw them. It seemed unremarkable that the two UN staffers were there, almost as if they had been expected to show up.

Beside Colonel Rhodes was Tony Stark. Iron Man. He wore tinted glasses and had a robe on that had fallen open to reveal an arc reactor on his chest. More strikingly, he was sitting in a wheelchair, hooked up to a bag of saline. It was a pitiful sight to behold. Whatever had happened in space had clearly taken its toll, as he appeared thinner, sickly, and weak. The complete antithesis of the genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist that Circe had admired since she was young. It was heart-wrenching. Had Thanos done _this_ too? Mr. Stark barely glanced up when Circe and R'dawē entered the room. He seemed lost in thought.

Captain Rogers took his place among the gathered Avengers, "Let's get started."


	3. Chapter 3: Zero, Zip, Nada

**Chapter 3: Zero, Zip, Nada**

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original character R'dawē. The main character's name is spelled Circe, but pronounced like Saoirse ("sir-sha"). She is based on Jack Kirby's original character, but I have created an original backstory and characterization for her. This is NOT the MCU Circe. *This chapter contains dialogue from the film "Avengers: Endgame." Credit for those lines belongs to the writers/directors/actors of the film.* **Thank you for your attention and enjoy!**

* * *

The team converged around a holo-table, with images of the fallen Avengers projected above. Colonel Rhodes broke the comfortless silence, "It's been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth." There was that name again, the faceless, formless name that had haunted Circe and R'dawē throughout their research the past few weeks.

Agent Romanoff stepped forward, nodding in the direction of the UN staffers, "World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census." Holographic pictures flashed up above the table. So many good people, so many important ones, were gone. "And it looks like he did…he did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures." It was silent for a moment, as they took in the information that they had all suspected. It still felt surreal to hear it spoken aloud. Circe saw a photo of Nick Fury, the former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director, illuminate.

"Where is he now? Where?" Mr. Stark chimed in. He looked so much worse than Circe remembered. The battle against Thanos and the time stuck in space had really weakened him. It tore at her heart to see a hero, someone she looked up to, in such a state.

Captain Rogers sighed, "We don't know. He just opened a portal and walked through." The resignation in his tone was similarly disturbing.

Circe shifted where she stood, brushing shoulders with R'dawē. It was disconcerting; the hopelessness was nearly palpable. Where was the ruthless determination? When were they going to lay out a strategy to find this Thanos and bring him to justice? This was not at all what she had expected to find.

Mr. Stark gestured to where Thor sat, "What's wrong with him?"

"He thinks he failed," a voice said, from somewhere near the floor. _Who was it?_ Circe hadn't seen anyone else enter the room since the meeting started. She craned her neck to see and…hold on…was that a… no, it couldn't possibly be. "Which of course he did." _Oh shit, it was_. "But you know there's a lot of that going around, ain't there?" Circe elbowed R'dawē in the ribs, her eyes never leaving the racoon that had spoken. That. Had. Spoken.

"Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-a-Bear," Mr. Stark quipped, looking over his glasses at the fuzzy creature.

The racoon shrugged and murmured half to itself, "Maybe I am." Okay, this was a bit bewildering. In her conversations with Thor, Circe had discovered that there was a vast variety of life out in the universe. But this was unexpected. Back home, she had to chase racoons out of her garbage cans several times a week. But this one sounded, well, fairly intelligent, and had a vague southern accent, which made it all the more bizarre.

"We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now," Captain Rogers said, intentionally drawing the conversation back to the topic at hand. "Deep space scans and satellites, and we got nothing."

Circe felt compelled to speak, though it was hard to draw her curiosity away from the racoon; she and R'dawē had been tirelessly working along similar ends for weeks. "We've been monitoring for outer-orbital communications, analyzing the energy signature of Thanos's arrival and disappearance. But…nothing yet."

Captain Rogers turned back to Mr. Stark, "Tony, you fought him."

Mr. Stark started in his chair, "Who told you that? I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet, while the Bleeker Street Magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight."

Circe cringed, her eyes downcast, as she heard the two heroes begin to argue. This was _her_ fault. She knew it. Everyone knew it. If only she had fought harder to make the Sokovia Accords more balanced, fairer. Iron Man and Captain America had been allies, the foundation of the team.

She could have done something, anything to stop the Avengers from falling apart. Instead, the document that she had helped to produce had polarized Earth's mightiest heroes and drawn them into battle in Germany two years before. She had been there too, observing from the sidelines, hidden with R'dawē. It had been immensely painful to watch. This was no less troubling. Mr. Stark was standing, ranting about how he had seen this coming and Circe felt a sense of overwhelming shame wash over her.

"I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada." his voice was a menacing whisper. "No trust. Liar."

Mr. Stark tore the arc reactor off his chest suddenly and Circe jumped at the unexpected movement. He placed the device in Captain Rogers' hand, scowling and starting to sway on his feet.

"Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on. You hide," he accused bitterly. His knees were starting to give out.

Circe lunged forward instinctively as she saw Mr. Stark fall to the ground. He was still upright, though his eyes seemed distant. _This can't be happening._

"I'm fine…" Mr. Stark managed to say before collapsing entirely. Circe was the first one down, ensuring his head didn't hit the floor. Here was Iron Man, unconscious, sprawled on the floor looking like half the man he used to be. Thanos really had won. _What were they going to do?_

* * *

"I'm going to talk to the racoon." Circe whispered to R'dawē as they watched Mr. Stark get settled in what appeared to be a makeshift, high-tech hospital bed. He was still so agitated, and the tension in the room was palpable. She had to get her mind off it and start looking for answers. Worrying about the past wasn't going to bring anybody back.

"You first," R'dawē responded quietly, eyeing the animal uncertainly. "He doesn't seem very friendly. Also, did he _speak _earlier? I thought I had gone crazy, but you heard it too, right?."

"I heard it. But you're still crazy," Circe smirked, "And he seems like the chatty type; come on." She put a hand on R'dawē's shoulder and steered him in the direction of raccoon, who had been leaning against the wall like his life depended on it. He had been despondent throughout Cap and Mr. Stark's argument, but she had a feeling he might be useful to figuring out their next steps.

He looked up when she approached. "What do you want?" the short, fuzzy, heavily armed creature asked irritably.

"I'm Circe," she said confidently, by way of introduction, still not sure after all these years how to begin a conversation with a…well, with an alien.

The racoon looked perplexed and mildly disgusted, "Okay?…I'm Rocket."

"Rocket, it's…it's nice to meet you," she replied pleasantly, trying her best to maintain the appearance of calm collectedness. Though the mood was somber in the Compound, Circe couldn't help but feel energized at the prospect of conversing with a being who had traversed the galaxies. She had always been intrigued by what lay beyond Earth, past the solar system, and encounters like these slaked her thirst for knowledge, however temporarily.

"You're staring."

_Damn, he noticed._ "Oh. Sorry. It's, ah…it's been a long day, I didn't been to be rude."

Rocket snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, "Who's your boyfriend?"

"R'dawē. He's my colleague and friend," Circe corrected.

"Uh huh," Rocket was already turning his attention towards R'dawē, or more specifically, the portable computer that was in his hand. "Did you say you've been monitoring space for the energy signatures like what Thanos created on Earth?"

R'dawē nodded, holding out his tablet to the racoon a bit reluctantly, "Yes, we have an algorithm that searches for similarities, but the range on it only goes so far."

Rocket took the tablet and began swiping from screen to screen, surveying the data. R'dawē looked to Circe, eyes wide and uncertain. She could tell from his face that he was astonished, and no small bit unnerved, by the creature's human-like abilities.

"Huh. Well I guess you two aren't as big of idiots as you look." Rocket resolved as he analyzed the maps and star-charts that the pair had assembled over the past few weeks. "Come with me, I got a device that could extend your search. We just gotta install the algorithm and bingo, might actually find the purple creep."

Rocket led them into an adjoining room, one that had a larger table to work with and what looked to be a lot of advanced weaponry and technology that Circe had never even seen before. As R'dawē sat down to collaborate with Rocket, she perused the gadgets carefully, looking them over with a critical eye. If Agent Romanoff was right, and Thanos had really wiped out half of all living creatures in the entire universe, perhaps the tragedy could be leveraged to create unity between worlds, between systems, expand Earth's partnerships beyond just a few special individuals like Thor. But even as she considered it, she knew it was impractical. Societies on Earth barely got along as it was, and in the midst of this chaos, things had only gotten worse. It seemed that amity between inhabitants of different worlds was far-fetched, at best.

Beside her, something moved with impressive stealth and composure to push a particularly complex device out of her reach. Circe looked up and met the eyes of a figure her height, decidedly alien, and with dark, haunted eyes.

"That's a grenade," said the husky voice succinctly.

Circe blinked, withdrawing her hand. "Right, sorry. I'm Circe."

The alien woman nodded once, making a muffled sound of acknowledgement. "Nebula," she murmured in response.

The two stood beside each other in companionable silence. Despite the endless questions Circe wanted to ask, she could sense that now was not the time. This Nebula was clearly feeling the anguish of loss too. Her eyes were trained on Mr. Stark, who was now laying in the cot with Pepper Potts and Colonel Rhodes by his side, as the other Avengers were engaged in discussion with the new addition to the team, the blonde woman whom Circe had never seen before.

Both Circe and Nebula were quiet, standing on the fringes of the action. As Rocket and R'dawē sat working over the tablet, Circe realized that the four of them were rather outcasts, newcomers, but not yet included into the fold that was the Avengers. She expected no less, personally. But for Nebula and Rocket, what must they be thinking? Where had they come from? _Why?_

"Circe!" R'dawē came up behind her quickly and she turned around to see a hopeful expression on his face. "We might have found something, come look!"

* * *

"When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions. No one's ever seen anything like it…Until two days ago" Rocket explained, gesturing to R'dawē to pull up a hologram on the table projector. "On this planet."

Circe's eyes widened. It was green and beautiful. And it was harboring evil. The team had reconvened around the holo-table and were listening intently to what Rocket and R'dawē had discovered.

Nebula spoke solemnly, "Thanos is there."

"He used the stones again," Agent Romanoff stated with both conviction and a hint of undisguised fear in her voice.

R'dawē nodded, crossing his arms across his chest, "That's what this is showing, but we don't know why and we don't know what it did."

"Hey, hey, hey. We'd be going in short-handed, you know," Dr. Banner cautioned, worry clouding his face, as Agent Romanoff continued to assess the planet projected on the table.

Colonel Rhodes shook his head absently, "Look, he's still got the stones, so…"

"So let's get him," the new woman, Carol Danvers, proposed abruptly. 'Use them to bring everyone back."

Circe admired her confidence and assertiveness. It was the right idea. They had no time to waste. Okay, admittedly, it did sound a little implausible, but what was needed now was action.

Colonel Rhodes objected, "Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that," Captain Rogers said, giving a knowing look to Captain Danvers. The woman nodded imperceptibly, her expression a mix of determination and sorrow.

Circe glanced at R'dawē. He had been watching her from across the room during the whole discussion. Clearly, he knew that she was planning something. He could practically see the gears spinning in her mind.

"I'm going too," she announced. Immediately, everyone's heads turned to face her.

"Going? You can't be serious." Captain Rogers replied. "We're dealing with a dangerous unknown and on his territory. This isn't…"

"I'm aware of that," Circe interrupted. "You need me."

She could tell he was getting frustrated, "With all due respect, Ms. Mismyre, we can do this without your help."

"Steve, maybe we should…" Agent Romanoff began, before Captain Rogers stepped forward, ignoring the comment and directing his words to Circe.

"This isn't up for debate. You're not going," he pressed, moving closer so that he was essentially looming over Circe. She refused to be intimidated. This was not the first time a man had looked down on her, but it would certainly be his last. "You're an intellectual. You theorize. I've read your reports and they're good, but that's not what we need here. Thanos isn't going to negotiate. This is a battle and you'll only get in the way." He paused, placing his hands on his hips authoritatively, "Moreover, I don't trust you. You're an inexperienced bureaucrat whose biggest accomplishment was the Accords that tore this team apart. That's on you."

"_You_ don't trust _me_?" she laughed harshly, pulling herself up to her full height, which was nothing compared to Captain America. A small part of her broke hearing him echo her earlier misgivings.

"I don't. No one in this room should. You doubled talked all of us about the Accords. The UN tried to restrict us from doing what was right, and if we had been able to function independently, we might have been able to defeat Thanos. " Captain Rogers pointed back to the spot where Mr. Stark had fallen. "What you saw earlier, that was on the UN."

She had had enough. "I'm not asking you to trust the UN, Captain Rogers. I am asking you to trust _me_. There's a difference. And one day, when we actually have time for this, I'll gladly explain to you my position on the Accords."

He huffed in disbelief, moving to turn away, dismissing her in the process. But she wasn't done.

"No, I AM going!" she said forcefully, taking a few steps towards his retreating figure. R'dawē subtly shook his head from across the room, trying to dissuade her from pressing the matter further, but she ignored it. "You think that you're the only one who lost friends, family to this monster? I lost my parents, Captain. I waited for days for their call. They always call. After the bombing in Vienna…" She saw him flinch. _Good_. "After every thunderstorm or highway accident reported on the news, they always call. But they haven't. They're gone. We all lost people. And I'll be damned if I'm told to sit here and do nothing, when the entire world, the whole universe apparently, is waiting and suffering and _you_, you, sir, sure as hell aren't going to stand in my way." Tears threatened to spill over, but she somehow maintained composure enough to keep them at bay. Crying would do no good here. She tried to push the pain of losing her family back into the dark little box in her heart that it had been relegated to in the aftermath of Thanos's snap.

"I may be a bureaucrat, I may not save the world every few years, but this affects me too," her voice cracked at the end. "I'll do whatever you ask. We need to bring them back. Whatever it takes."

It was silent. Thor had stopped eating at his table a short distance away, emotionlessly observing the heated discussion play out. Nebula, too, watched with a detached calm. It was disconcerting to look around and not see any visible support for her words.

"Whatever it takes." Captain Danvers stepped forward, repeating Circe's words and giving her an affirming nod. "She's right." Circe let out a breath that she had been holding in.

"Even if there's a small chance that we can undo this… I mean, we owe it to everyone who's not in this room to try." Agent Romanoff declared.

Attention now turned back to Captain Rogers. He sighed and shook his head. It was silent for what felt like ages but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. "Don't make me regret this."

Circe felt her heart lift. He was agreeing? Agreeing that she could join the Avengers and go to _space_? She felt a hand grip her shoulder briefly and turned to see Captain Danvers giving her an encouraging smile, "You are ready for this."

Circe nodded haltingly, taking a few steps away to diffuse the remaining tension in the room. As the team reconvened around the holo-table, R'dawē approached Circe quietly. His eyes were troubled, and she could sense waves of nervous energy coming from him. As they drew together, he put a hand on her arm, which she covered with her own. She knew that his fear stemmed from the deep friendship that they shared, the compassion he had for her, and his uncertainty about the situation as a whole. It was nice, knowing that he cared so much. In the absence of her family, R'dawē was all she had left.

"Are you sure about this?" he repeated his question, this time with new meaning behind the words. She was going to space to try to defeat the menace who had turned her world upside down.

She wasn't sure about anything. But she knew that this was the right thing to do.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews make me very happy! **If you have a moment, I'd be grateful for your feedback! It's a long chapter (sorry!), and I've worked really hard on integrating scenes from the film while adding new original content! **Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Garden

**Chapter 4: The Garden**

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original character R'dawē. *This chapter contains dialogue from the film "Avengers: Endgame." Credit for those lines belongs to the writers/directors/actors of the film.* **Thank you for your attention and enjoy!**

**Note: Reviews are appreciated! Let me know what you like/dislike/hope to see happen!**

* * *

"Okay, who here hasn't been to space?" Rocket asked patronizingly. Circe raised her hand, shifting in her seat as she saw Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers, and Colonel Rhodes lift theirs haltingly. She shouldn't feel excited right now, given the circumstances. But going to space was something that she had always dreamed about! It still seemed surreal that they had allowed her to accompany them on such a crucial mission. Her, an untrained, UN staffer, skilled in the theoretical application of international relations to outer space, but completely useless in a fight. She wasn't the pragmatic choice, but she was capable of following orders and, at the very least, was an asset to the decimated team. So, here she was, sitting among the Avengers, about to leave the Earth's atmosphere, and equipped with repulsor beam gloves made by Tony Stark himself, no less!

"Approaching jump in 3…2…1" Nebula counted down before the spaceship accelerated, throwing its passengers firmly into their seats. Circe was speechless. Around her were stars, galaxies, worlds she had never even known about, flying past her at what felt like lightspeed! In front of her, she could see Agent Romanoff's hand gripping the armrest tightly. Even Captain Rogers seemed uneasy, eyes wide as the expanse of space passed before them. For Circe, though, it was beautiful, familiar, comforting in a way she didn't completely understand.

All too soon, the ship shuttered out of hyper-speed. They had arrived. Captain Danvers unbuckled her seatbelts and moved towards the back to the ship towards the airlock. Before them was a planet, resplendent with greenery. In the darkness of space, it seemed to Circe that this was a beacon of light, of energy, of a flourishing, unspoiled nature. Yet she knew in her heart that despite its serene appearance, the planet was hiding a menace like none other.

"I'll head down for recon," Captain Danvers announced from outside of the ship before zooming away towards the planet. Circe took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling equal parts entranced and intimidated by the superpowered newcomer. She was certainly glad to have her on their side.

"Are you nervous?" Thor's voice rumbled softly beside her. He had been nearly silent since Circe arrived at the compound, but his morose presence had been felt by everyone. From her previous, albeit limited, experience around the naturally jovial god of thunder, she knew that something was wrong. He was hurting.

Circe turned to face him, startled by the sudden intrusion into her thoughts, "Not really. Though if I'm being honest, I probably should be."

She didn't feel worried at all. A peculiar sense of calm had settled over her during the journey and though she knew that this was a monumental moment, perhaps even one that decided the fate of the universe, her mind was focused. Life and death, including her own, hung in the balance. Yet the only thing that seemed to matter was recovering the stones.

Thor nodded slowly, "We'll get him this time." His tone was definitive, leaving no doubt in Circe's mind that there was no room for error this round. Although she had not been involved in the first battle against Thanos, she still felt a sense of failure for not having been able to prevent it, even though that was an unreasonable expectation.

Captain Danvers reappeared, hovering in front of the ship's viewport, "No satellites, no ships, no armies, no ground defenses of any kind," she reported stoically. "It's just him."

"And that's enough." Nebula's answer sent chills racing along Circe's skin. There wasn't another moment to waste. If there was even the slightest chance at fixing things, they had to try.

* * *

All seemed silent as they approached the hut. They had a plan. Captain Danvers would go in first to disarm the Titan. Dr. Banner would follow to ensure the gauntlet couldn't be activated and then Colonel Rhodes would enter to finish restraining him. The odds weren't good. Circe knew that. They were about to confront the creature that had wiped out half of all life in the universe. He had used the stones again to some unknown purpose only two days prior. It wasn't likely that he would be keen to negotiate. And they were on his turf.

Captain Rogers had been systematic in his instructions, despite the fact that they had no idea what they were walking into. Circe was to stay at Rocket's side and enter only after Thanos had been sufficiently intercepted. As the teams peeled off, each in the direction from which they would begin the ambush, Circe noticed the massive glinting armor displayed in the meadow in front of the hut. It looked like some kind of monstrous medieval scarecrow. It's harrowing appearance created no small amount of cognitive dissonance when compared to its surroundings: the lush grasses, towering waterfalls, and soft breeze. In the silence of their slow advance, birdsong could be heard in the distance. It was like nothing Circe had ever heard before; a cadence so heartbreakingly pretty and so reminiscent of the birds she heard every day growing up on a rural farm. Nostalgia had no place here, though. Shaking her head, she followed the foul-mouthed raccoon cautiously, bending low to stay out of sight as they traversed the genocidal alien's space-yard. There was nothing familiar about this.

Rocket motioned for Circe to come closer to where he stood, just alongside the entrance to the hut, though out of view from its occupant. She could hear what seemed to be dishware colliding and the shuffling steps of someone large. He was in there. Thanos. The larger-than-life entity who had stolen away her parents and created pandemonium on her world. And it sounded like he was just… cooking.

Circe knelt, poised for action, waiting for the signal to be given. Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff were positioned just beyond, in a dip in the field, in case Thanos tried to flee. Beside her, Rocket shifted impatiently, his hand twitching as it unholstered a weapon. "What's taking so long?" he mumbled, baring his teeth.

Circe shook her head, not daring to speak. Suddenly, there was an eruption of noise: the photon blasts from Captain Danvers. Adrenaline coursed through her; any minute now, Circe would come face to face with the scourge that had haunted the Avengers for years.

"That's it, I'm going in, cover me!" Rocket shouted over the noise, looking back over his shoulder at Circe.

"Rocket, no! We have to wait for…"

"That bastard dusted Groot! He took MY FAMILY!" Rocket shouted over his shoulder, with a savage hatred lighting his eyes.

No, she thought, it was too soon! As Rocket charged in, Circe leaned around the doorframe and saw Captain Danvers wrap her arms around the broad, purple neck of their enemy. The Titan's gauntleted hand began to close into a fist, and without hesitation, Circe raced forward, instinctively shoving Rocket behind her, much to his discontent. She aimed her repulsor gloves at Thanos's torso and fired two quick blasts which set him off balance as Captain Danvers placed her foot firmly in the middle of the gauntlet to prevent it from closing. But it was not enough. Just as Dr. Banner, in his Hulkbuster armor, was pushing into the hut, Thanos's right arm flailed, grappling for purchase on whatever it could find. Before she could move out of the way, his hand closed around her forearm with a steely grip. Circe felt a storm of rage rush through her and she set off one last blast from her glove as he flung her directly into the fire pit,

The impact was excruciating.

It was blinding at first. The scalding heat of the flames were soon followed by the crushing weight of a cauldron that had held the Titan's meager meal. Circe's left arm was being devoured by a concentrated inferno. In front of her, the other Avengers had gathered, restraining Thanos as Thor wielded Stormbreaker and brought it down on Thanos's gauntleted forearm. None of that really registered with Circe though. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. Even the hands of Agent Romanoff, pulling her forcefully from the fire pit and leaning her against a basket off to the side, seemed as if they were occurring to someone else entirely.

The pain was intensifying, and Circe's head drooped. It was too much. Her skin felt as though it was crawling, pulling at its edges, her ligaments wrenching apart and knitting themselves back together agonizingly slowly. In a fleeting moment of clarity, it occurred to her that she might not make it. A one-way journey into the unknown, was that all this had been? And R'dawē, so far away back on Earth. She had promised him that she would tell him every detail of what she saw, that she would be safe, that she would return. But the more that her muscles screamed in agony and her eyes lost focus, the more it seemed unlikely that she would ever see his face again. She had lost. _They_ had lost.

"You murdered trillions!" The voices rang in her ears, sounding miles away, underwater, and yet all too loud. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the putrid aroma of charred skin reached her nose. Some intrinsic part of her recognized that burns this bad should be numb, not producing a searing heat that made her stomach roil and her lungs twist in the very effort of breathing. The scene in front of her was increasingly blurry. It was becoming harder and harder to stay present. The sensations were altogether overpowering her.

As her eyes drifted shut and she sank into a bleak, though not unwelcome, unconsciousness, Circe heard Thanos rasp a final insult, "You should be grateful."


	5. Chapter 5: Five Years Later

**Chapter 5: Five. Years. Later.**

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a work of fanfiction that uses characters, themes, and universe that belong to Marvel Studios, the writers/directors of the MCU, and the brilliant mind of Stan Lee. I do not own nor claim any of the characters as my own creation, other than the original character R'dawē. *This chapter contains dialogue from the film "Avengers: Endgame." Credit for those lines belongs to the writers/directors/actors of the film.* The song mentioned in this chapter is a traditional Scottish ballad that is hauntingly beautiful, called "The Bonny Banks of Loch Lomond." **Thank you for your attention and enjoy!**

**Note: Reviews make me happy; let me know what you like/dislike/want to see happen!**

* * *

Circe was chopping up strawberries, humming along to the song that played from her phone. It was a nostalgic song, one that reminded her of simpler times in childhood, and of cool summer days spent at her grandmother's historic home. She hardly listened to the words, but the melody carried a sense of comforting familiarity.

"_For ye'll take the high road_

_And I'll take the low road_

_And I'll be in Scotland afore ye"_

She moved on to the bananas, assessing how much fruit had already filled up the bowl and how much more needed to be added. She was still sweaty from her morning "therapy" session and despite having a full schedule for the day, she was relaxed. She'd get to have dinner with Mr. Stark and his family tonight, as always. It was a Thursday, after all.

"_For me and my true love will never meet again_

_On the bonny bonny banks of Loch Lomond_

_For me and my true love will never meet again_

_On the bonny…"_

Circe harshly dropped the paring knife and grappled with her phone to turn the music off. She slammed the device back on the countertop suddenly and let out a loud breath.

This happened sometimes. The sudden shift in her mood. She'd start feeling…_normal_. She would be content for a few minutes, maybe a few hours, until it all came rushing back: the harrowing images, the nauseating sensations, and, worst of all, the dumbfounding feeling of helplessness. It wasn't like a flashback nor was it any lingering anxiety. Rather it was a sinking feeling that felt a lot like disappointment. And when that happened, the last thing she wanted to hear about was "never meeting again." That was a reality all too palpable which she shared with the poor soul in the song. Leaning against the countertop, Circe laced her fingers together and allowed herself a moment to remember.

* * *

When she had woken up, all those years ago, she had been in a hospital bed feeling seriously disoriented. Her eyes had squinted against the sunlight that poured through open blinds. Where was she? As she had stirred to life, struggling to get her bearings, a voice sounded from somewhere to her right.

"Ah, you're up!" It was Tony Stark. _What was he doing here?_ Sitting in a chair placed beside her bed, of all things? He looked a lot better, healthier, than the last time she had seen him, which was…when? Today? Yesterday?

Circe hadn't said anything. Her mouth had felt like sandpaper and nothing was making sense. She had…wait, she had gone to space, right? It wasn't a dream. She had been there. She had definitely been there, seen galaxies and innumerable constellations. She had been with Rocket and Captain America and…and they were…_fighting_. Right, they were fighting…Thanos… _Oh_.

As she had begun to turn her head away, Mr. Stark took hold of the hand closest to him, drawing her attention back in that direction.

"Hey, kid, listen, before you react…you've been out for almost a week," he had told her. "You've got a lot to catch up on but there's no rush, okay?" His voice had sounded oddly…resigned. Stronger than it had before, but different somehow.

"R'dawē…" she had croaked hoarsely. It was a question, that single word, the most important one her hazy thoughts could form.

"He's fine. He's been in this chair since you got back, wouldn't leave until Cap persuaded him to get actual sleep for a few hours," Mr. Stark assured quickly, understanding the concern. "He won't be happy that he missed you waking up though. Might have to pretend to do it again."

Circe had let out a breathless chuckle. Surprisingly, it hadn't hurt in the least. _That was odd._ Last she could recall, everything hurt, ribs included. Then, it hit her. What had happened. Turning her head once more, her eyes had landed on something entirely unexpected.

It was a robotic arm, nearly identical to one on Iron Man's suits. And it was connected to her, apparently.

She had slowly lifted her left arm from the elbow, staring in wonder as the artificial limb moved with her subconscious commands. Mr. Stark had been watching closely for any apprehension, for the realization that this was going to be her new normal. He knew what it was like to wake up disoriented, with something vital missing and a piece of metal in its place. And he knew he didn't want this brilliant young woman to experience the fear and alarm he once had.

"You got hurt pretty bad up there," he said warily, clearing choosing his words with care, keeping his tone soft. "We didn't have much of a choice; your bones were crushed and the veins collapsed. Third degree burns. The works."

She had studied the apparatus that began at the, well, _her_ fingertips and ended in the space between her elbow and shoulder, only half listening to its architect who sat beside her. It was a red titanium alloy model, with a repulsor device hidden in the palm, and a single word scrawled just at the crook of her arm: _Excelsior_.

"Bruce said it was for the best. Things were, well, they were kinda chaotic when you got back. We didn't have many options," he paused a moment, staring at something along the wall. "It's biometrically attached and everything, so you shouldn't be able to feel a difference. You're a strong one so I have a feeling you'll adapt to it quickly. If the color is a bit much, I can make a replacement to look more realistic. It's still top of the line prosthetics, and if it's not…"

"I like it," she had murmured, a bit dazed, cutting off his rambling. Stark had run his hand through his hair, mouth curving upwards into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. She flexed her new fingers, curling them into a fist, watching in muted amazement as the mechanics responded instantly.

* * *

It was another week before it finally hit her that she had become an amputee. The gravity of the fact was hard to wrap her mind around, even if her new prosthetic made it easy to forget that anything had happened at all. But the truth was still difficult to swallow. She had lost an arm. No. Correction: lost an arm _in space. _

When R'dawē had come back to the medical bay in the Avengers Compound (and Circe had indeed pretended to wake up for the first time), he hadn't spared any detail as to what happened.

The stones were gone. The Avengers had lost. Thanos was dead, but that didn't really matter anymore. The world was still in chaos. And the UN Secretary General had more or less panicked during R'dawē's debrief of the mission to the Garden. He ordered that a global reconstruction strategy be developed as soon as time allowed. And, of course, he had given that order to IPR, Circe's department, of which she was now acting director on top of everything else.

Not long after that, life had fallen into a rather mundane pattern. She had gotten back on her feet quickly, always being one to recover fairly fast, and was able to return to the task of managing a thoroughly changed world and one that was now unprecedently connected with others through shared tragedy. It was an immense challenge.

Circe and R'dawē had both moved into the Avengers Compound on a more permanent basis and set up a base from which to work and live. It was convenient; interstellar communication technology to keep in touch with Nebula, Rocket, and Captain Danvers, distance from the desolation of New York City, and, best of all, regular training sessions with Agent Romanoff…Natasha, as she all but demanded Circe call her…who had offered to help Circe with therapy and, later, to become a competent adversary in a physical confrontation.

Another part of this new routine, one of the best parts, was her Thursday dinners. Every single Thursday since she had gotten out of the medical bay, for five years, Circe had gone to the Stark home for dinner. Initially, Mr. Stark had invited her each week to see how her arm was doing, do some "tune ups," and fix minor glitches that presented themselves as she became used to the apparatus. Then, without anyone really articulating it, the Thursday dinners became an unspoken tradition. A standing invitation. She had become very close to Mr. Stark and his family over the five years and cherished her Thursdays with them. Little Morgan, in particular, was a ray of light even when everything else felt like it was going wrong at the UN. Being around a family, for holidays, birthdays, milestones, and run of the mill activities…it was nice. It was what Circe missed most about her own family being gone.

* * *

"I'd say that's it for today. You're getting a lot better with turning defense into offense." Natasha declared as she entered the kitchen, interrupting Circe's rather morose thoughts about the past. "Might even be good enough to take me down one day."

Circe grinned at the praise. Coming from the Black Widow, that was the best compliment she could have gotten. Despite being sweaty and her mind having drifted to a dark place, Circe felt glorious; it was a rare uplifting feeling that didn't happen all that often anymore.

"Well, I have a good teacher. She's kinda tough on me though. And doesn't pull punches," she replied jokingly, noticing Natasha glance down at the cutting board. Of course, the she knew what the fruit was for. She knew, but never commented. No one did. Circe would just say that she was "heading out" and they, even Captain Rogers who hadn't been on speaking terms with Mr. Stark for years, all knew that meant she was going to spend the evening with the Starks.

Things hadn't healed among the Avengers since that fateful day, that awful argument. Whatever animosity existed between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers was deep and not easy to heal. Circe had since picked up on the fact that the Sokovia Accords weren't the only thing dividing the two, but she had never inquired further to either party. It felt like Thursdays were a completely separate sphere in her life, something that existed outside of time completely. She didn't want anything to tarnish that sanctity.

"You got any plans for the afternoon?" Natasha asked, pulling out a jar of peanut butter and some bread.

"Unfortunately. I have to provide updates to the Assembly about the new trade system we implemented last year. Plus, I've got the Asgardian delegation coming over from Norway for a panel discussion about agriculture. Which means I have to go into the city, so I probably won't be back until late."

"I'll let you know what we cover in the meeting later."

"Shoot! Is that today?" Circe asked, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I completely forgot. And R'dawē…he won't be here either…he already left for headquarters to keep an eye on the seismic stuff going on in the Indian Ocean. Would you, ah, tell Nebula that if she and Rocket are within range, I can call them back in like…um…eight, nine hours about the treaty plans for those two warring planets near Torfa? I still have to shower before I leave for HQ."

"Sure thing, and hey, heads up!" Circe turned just in time to see a peanut butter sandwich leave Natasha's hand and arc across the kitchen in her direction. The Black Widow smiled when the younger woman caught it with practiced ease. "Nice reflexes. You really are doing well."

Circe smiled, genuinely smiled, before jogging off in the direction of her rooms.

* * *

After a quick shower, redressing for the office, and gathering her bag of papers (she was a traditionalist, and liked to write her thoughts out rather than type them), Circe realized she would have to take the fruit salad for tonight's dinner along too, since she wouldn't be back at the Compound until afterwards. Hurrying back towards the kitchen, she heard Natasha's voice and slowed her steps, wondering if the call was still going on and if she might join for a minute. But the voice that responded was not one she expected to hear.

"You know, I keep telling everybody they should move on and…grow." It was Captain Rogers. He was rarely here anymore. Circe had gotten to be on better terms with him over the years, but he had taken to staying in the city more often than not.

His words felt like a blow to her earlier elation. She was about to confront him, point out that some things couldn't be moved on from. Otherwise, what value did any of her work have? She and R'dawē would never stop working to fix things, but that didn't mean they had moved on from the immense loss of life that precipitated all of this. Then she heard the Captain's next words and it froze her in place, "Some do. But not us." _Not us._

"If I move on, who does this?" Natasha asked. Circe couldn't see either of them. She was tucked behind a wall, near the kitchen corridor. Time was ticking by and she knew she had to get going soon, so she moved in the kitchen, where she could still faintly hear the conversation.

"Maybe it doesn't need to be done."

Circe again stopped. Her hand was nearly on the door that led to the garage and her car. She looked down at that hand, the artificial one, made by Tony Stark to replace the one Thanos had taken from her. They couldn't _move on_, they couldn't just stop doing _this_. Too much had happened, too much of their lives had become invested, intertwined with the horrible actions of the Mad Titan that there wasn't any other option. At least not for Circe.

"I used to have nothing. And then I got this," Natasha began, her voice cracking with sorrowful emotion. "This job…this family. And I was…I was better because of it. And even though…they're gone…I'm still trying to be better."

Circe pressed her other hand to her mouth, tears coming to her eyes freely. She knew that pain, the feeling of being aimlessly adrift. To hear Natasha, who had become like a sister to her these past years express openly such sentiments pulled at her heartstrings. The Black Widow was tough, unmoving, and yet so very human. And Circe understood, too, the exquisite sense of belonging that had surrounded her since she moved into the Compound. The Avengers, the remaining ones, and R'dawē had become her family. What had started as a radical idea to go into space had turned into the creation of a new home, even if it meant the loss of a limb. A place she was accepted, cared for, and embraced. In a twisted way, she was grateful that things had turned out the way they did in the aftermath. If they couldn't bring everyone back, at least she had found…belonging.

She rushed out to the garage, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, not waiting to hear if Captain Rogers gave a response.

* * *

It had been a frustrating day. The update to the Assembly went about as expected, which was to say: poorly. The ambassadors were still wholeheartedly focused on petty geopolitics, which to Circe seemed quite insane given the circumstances. One might have thought that the indiscriminate mass obliviation of humanity by an extraterrestrial entity would have acted as a catalyst for unprecedented unity.

Nope. Back to bickering over relative gains and balances of power.

It wasn't helpful. It wasn't even remotely useful that the countries had resumed their infighting when, globally, conditions were teetering on the brink of improvement. How were they supposed to get anywhere when old rivalries, irrelevant ones in her opinion, kept surfacing and stalling progress? She kept her mouth shut about it, mostly. It wasn't her job to comment on politics as such. But she certainly gave R'dawē, the most patient of souls, an earful afterwards.

Circe was more than glad to be out of the city and on the road to the Stark farm. The drive was pleasant, she had the windows down in her car, and sped along the empty roads towards her destination. No traffic anymore.

She rounded the corner that would take her along the gravel path up to the house. As she slowed down, car rattling as it transferred off the pavement, she saw something ahead in the distance. _Another car_? Huh. Then she realized who it belonged to. They were standing on the porch, scowling at Mr. Stark, who held Morgan in his arms. This was…hmm…_different_. A bit awkward actually, since none of them ever discussed where she went on Thursdays with a bowl of fruit salad. Also, who was the other person, the man with his back to her, the one standing between Captain Rogers and Natasha?

She pulled up hesitantly, a short distance from the other car and killed her engine. The group on the porch turned at the sound. Well, this was uncomfortable. But she wasn't entirely sure she was the one to be feeling that way. Captain Rogers looked positively agitated; Natasha's carefully schooled expression was even a bit sheepish. And, hold on, that was… _what the hell_? She knew his face from months of careful study and several brief encounters after the incident at the airport in Germany. But Scott Lang was reported as one of the disappeared, so…_how was he here_? Moreover, _why_? And where the hell was he for the past five years?

She opened her door of her car and slowly stepped out onto the gravel. Mr. Stark gave her a nod of acknowledgement and Natasha gave a gentle smile, which Circe returned. Captain Rogers walked off the porch and back towards the cars, towards Circe. She wavered for a moment, feeling a bit like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. He didn't say anything, just glanced at her with steely eyes, and she felt somewhat emboldened by the fact that he wasn't going to object to her being here. Either way, he had no right to do so.

Circe offered a shy smile in passing to Natasha, who returned it. Scott Lang looked at her blankly until she could see the recognition take place in his mind, and a brief cold fury washed over his face. Well, wherever he was for the past few years, he sure hadn't forgotten her misunderstood involvement in the Sokovia Accords business.

She continued past the two cars and up to the deck, where Morgan promptly squealed and demanded to be set down so she could hug Circe.

"Brought the fruit salad?" Mr. Stark asked, still watching his colleagues…former colleagues…get settled in their car, talking amongst themselves.

"Always," she replied, getting the air squeezed out of her by the younger Stark. "You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Mr. Stark let out a sigh, watching as his old teammates rattled their way down the gravel drive.

"You're not going to believe this," he said in a low voice before twirling his daughter around in the air, extracting her from Circe with practiced ease. "But first, we have crickets and lettuce, wait…ouch, Morguna! I said pesto chicken and lemonade!"

* * *

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"I mean…_Geez_. The…what…_quantum realm_?" she said slowly.

"Mhmm. Yep."

"I've read about Hank Pym experimenting with it a long time ago. But still…it doesn't… Well, hmm…it can't be possible, can it?"

Mr. Stark shook his head, "Not for a sane person. Besides, it's out of the question, trying something like that."

"And they came here to ask if you'd help?" Circe questioned, still having a hard time wrapping her mind around the mechanics of it.

Mr. Stark made a noise of confirmation, passing her a freshly washed dish. They were alone in the kitchen, cleaning up after the meal while Pepper helped Morgan with her bath. It gave them a moment alone to discuss what motivated Captain Rogers to come here, after years of almost nonexistent contact.

Turns out, it was _time travel._

She absentmindedly moved the cloth across the plate as Mr. Stark continued scrubbing at a pan. He was pretty good at concealing his emotions. But Circe could sense that something was amiss. These after-dinner conversations with Mr. Stark (she absolutely refused to call him Tony on the grounds of having had a polite upbringing, despite his continual protests) were insightful. Not just into the world or technology, but into the brain of one of the most intelligent, creative, and compassionate people she had ever met.

When she was a child, Circe had idolized the billionaire inventor after he had publicly announced that he was, indeed, the Iron Man. He was a hero. It was part of what inspired her to intern with S.H.I.E.L.D. during college and what led her to pursue studies on interplanetary relations that had been discouraged and rejected by so many professors as a farce. Tony Stark had done what he believed was right, no matter what anyone had to say about him, and that was admirable. Now that she knew him as a person, as a friend, she was even more sure of that.

"They're messing with things we can't even begin to understand. So much could go wrong. Hmph, time travel!" he grumbled, momentarily losing control of the sprayer that he was using to clean the fruit salad bowl.

Water splashed up, landing on the window, curtains, and misting a few of the shelves by the sink. Circe laughed, taking her drying cloth and wiping some of the water from the window, while Mr. Stark reigned in the sprayer with even more sarcastic grumbling. She continued drying off the surface of the surrounding countertop until she noticed that he had paused, holding a picture frame that had been hit by some of the water.

"You miss him, don't you?" she asked quietly.

"What? Oh, the kid?" Mr. Stark answered, a bit distracted. "Yeah… hmm, yeah. I do."

Nothing needed to be said. He had told her about Peter Parker early on. Her first reaction was to freak out that Spiderman, THE Spiderman who regularly stopped crime in her very own neighborhood, was a high schooler. Then, of course, she heard about his backstory, how Mr. Stark had been mentoring him, and how the teenager had turned to dust on a remote planet far off in the cosmos. She never knew Peter Parker personally, but on some level, she felt like she did after hearing Mr. Stark talk about him so often. It was still a sensitive topic, one ladened with immense sadness. That's how it was when someone who was gone was brought up in conversation.

She'd be lying if she said that this time travel idea didn't deserve consideration. She wanted to bring people back just as much as anyone. She missed her mom's dim sum, her dad's undying hatred for the English rugby team. And, sure, she was happy now. But a small part of her would always miss how things were.

"Listen, Circe. I, ah… I have something to ask you."

"Fire away," she replied, looking up curiously whilst picking up the bowl to towel-dry it.

Mr. Stark hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully, "I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh"

"Hey now, I'm being serious," Mr. Stark's trademark smirk flickered onto his face momentarily before vanishing into a concerned expression. "If something were ever to happen to…me, you know, hypothetically, I would want someone to be there for Morgan and for Pepper. For the people I care about. Someone I could count on. Just if I wasn't there, to…well, to…protect them, make sure they're okay."

Mr. Stark paused, looking at her with an intensity that made Circe stop what she was doing.

"If that was the case, again hypothetically, I would want that someone to be…I'd want it to be you."

"Me?" she asked, stunned, nearly dropping the bowl. She did not see that coming.

"I know I can trust you to do what's best, to make the right choices. You've got a level head and a determination to see things through. Bonus points for having a highly weaponized arm I designed physically attached to you. But really, if it's something you're okay with, I want you to promise me that you'd be there…if I… if I couldn't be."

"Is there…something I should know about?" This was not the kind of post-dinner chat she anticipated having tonight. "Because obviously I would, but nothing is going to happen to you. You said yourself the time travel thing is ridiculous. And he…you know. _He's_ gone. Captain Danvers says the rest of the universe is in too much turmoil to even bother trying to invade or anything…"

"Circe."

"Mr. Stark, I…"

"Just promise me, okay? Do an old man a favor, hmm? Helps me sleep better at night knowing that my girls are looked after. I know Rhodey would be there in a second, but he's got responsibilities of his own. He's been tied down to my bullshit for longer than you've been alive."

She shook her head, still disbelieving, "But why now? Is it because of this quantum realm thing? Because it's totally impossible, I mean, it's straight from a movie, right?"

He sighed, looking at a drawing of Morgan's taped to the fridge. "Might be. Sometimes I become frighteningly aware of my own mortality, you know? It happened before. Man, more than a decade ago now! Then, I self-destructed more or less. But now, I have a beautiful kid and a loving wife, and I know they're not helpless; hell, Morgan will be a force to reckon with one day!"

"She already is," Circe smiled.

"Still, I want to protect them. More than anything. Put a suit of armor around MY world. And I gather you and I are a lot alike in that respect. Which is why I want you to promise me._ If _something ever happened, which it won't, of course. That you'd be there."

She nodded, considering his words. It was true. She was fiercely defensive of her people. R'dawē. Natasha. Nebula. Rocket, even. The Starks. It dawned on her that she really couldn't say no. Here he was, the great Iron Man, admitting his greatest fear to her. Even though she was confident that no calamity would ever occur that would force her to make good on that promise, she knew in her heart that there was only one thing to do.

"I promise."


End file.
